Alice of Human Sacrifice
by Anakha the Silver
Summary: Axel has gone looking for Roxas, but soon finds himself in a strange place. The pretty man with pink hair begins to tell him the horrific story of the dream that doesn't wish to die and the Alices it takes in. Genderswap, character death, a bit of gore.
1. Act One

Alice Human Sacrifice – Part One

How long has Axel been wandering in the dark? He can't tell. Roxas had gone missing before that, so he'd followed… But the next thing he'd known, everything had become black and he'd been wandering so long his feet had begun to hurt. And that had been awhile ago. This is now.

"Man, am I even moving…?" he finally asks—aloud, just to have the sounds to comfort him. He feels as if he's walking in place now, with nothing around him to go by. Really, this is getting annoying.

And then, almost as if on cue, the area in front of him lights up. Rows of red, velvet seats lined up in five rows—the kinds you find in theaters. And, lo and behold, what are they set up in front of? Why, an old, wooden stage with red, velvet curtains—trimmed with gold.

Confused, but not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, Axel takes a seat near the stage. He's sprawled out in the seat, just relaxing his poor, aching feet when, suddenly, the nonexistent lights dim. A single spotlight focuses on the center of the stage.

"_Ah, what have we here? A little lost Alice? There have been so many as of late."_

The voice comes from nowhere, Axel giving a visible shudder. He looks around, trying to find its source. His eyes return to the stage, where now stands a man. The red-head can only wonder where this character came from—all the while feeling much more creeped out.

Hair of a messy pink to just past his shoulders, slim, blue eyes set into his face like sapphires. The trousers and tailcoat are a deep, deep red, trimmed with a slightly brighter crimson. White shirt, black bowtie, brilliant red cummerbund…

A beautiful man, all in all. Not that Axel likes men, no, no, no. It's just so hard to _not _notice how pretty he is.

"Welcome, little Alice. Would you like to hear a story?" the pretty man asks, tilting his head slightly with a smile. It's warm and inviting and Axel just plain doesn't _trust_ it. It seems far, far too insincere for him. And he should know insincere, being who he is.

"You see, a long time ago, there was a little dream. No one knows who'd dreamt it. It was really such a small dream, you know." The man speaks in a bored tone, walking when he does so. Back and forth across the stage, twirling his cane slowly in a large circle.

"Being so small, the dream began to think…"

A sudden pause, the pretty man pivoting on his heels with a slight smirk. Three taps on the stage, and the curtains part. There, behind them, is an old movie screen. An invisible projector begins, displaying the image of a small boy, sitting alone.

"'I don't want to disappear!' the dream cried, 'How do I make people dream me?' Then, the little dream thought…"

The pretty man tilts his head to the side slightly again, standing straight and tall with his cane before him with hands resting gently on top of the item.

"_And at last had an idea."_

Axel hadn't been paying full attention to this, but now… Now, his eyes are stuck to the projection. For there, on the screen, things are changing, happening. The little boy's eyes are glowing bright, bright red, despite the faded sepia of the rest of the screen.

"_I'll make people come to me… And they will make my world."_

The red-head feels weightless, as if those glowing, red eyes are drawing him in, ridding him of a body and sweeping him away. But then, those red eyes are now blue, and they aren't glowing. In fact, now, they're sapphires set into an older man's face—a pretty man's.

"Come, Alice of Midnight Black. Let me tell you the story of the Alices that preceded you—the Alice human sacrifices." The pretty man speaks again, hypnotizing the aqua-eyed male completely. The world is going dark, except for those eyes, which, too, begin to fade into the blackness of the area, save for five figures…


	2. Act Two

Alice Human Sacrifice, Act 2

Five figures stand in the darkness. Different shapes and sizes, all of them, but the four to the right are beginning to vanish as the one on the far left is becoming more visible. But what greets Axel when she finally becomes visible is a horrific sight.

Her complexion darkened by age and decay, her skin and tattered clothing tight enough to reveal every single rib quite distinctly. Chunks of flesh have fallen from her in some places to reveal bone, and one of her eye sockets is empty. The other contains a glazed eye, staring into the distance. A toothless mouth hangs open, an empty black pit in her head. Clutched weakly in one of her decaying hands is a tarnished and rusted sword stained with dried blood.

Then, slender arms in dark red with white-gloved hands wrap around her from behind. The pretty man from before rests his chin on the red woman's shoulder and a change begins to take place.

Her grayed hair, limp and coarse, begins to become blonde, two antennae-like strands pulling themselves from the tangled mess as it smoothes out. Her skin lightens, and she fills out, becoming a young, beautiful woman again. Her mouth, hidden behind full lips, is drawn into a tight line, and her eyes—now a brilliant blue—rest within her skull, glimmering with malice.

_"The first Alice was a gallant red one/Wielding a sword in hand in the Wonderland."_

It's a song from the pretty man, sung in a detached tone, and Axel finds himself sinking into the eyes of someone, feeling weightless as the story takes place. But this time, it's the woman he falls into. Cruel, blue eyes full of bloodlust, shimmering with a tinge of red.

And now, he's as omniscient as the storyteller, watching as a young blonde woman steps through a red door into an empty space. But after her first few steps, a beautiful forest springs all around, and she is suddenly standing at the edge of a village.

Her sword, previously rusted, is held in hand as she walks. A determined expression in her beautiful eyes, her blonde hair falling gently down the back of her neck save for the two antennae atop her head.

A small child runs up to her, despite its mother's words of warning. The red woman looks down to him, stopping in her tracks. The child holds up a cup of water, drawn from the nearby well, while the woman smiles.

_"…Slicing down everything in her way…"_

The sudden ringing of a sword fills the ears of the people, then the thud of a body as the child fall to the ground, his head rolling to the side. Fresh blood soaks the ground, the path turning red.

Calamity engulfs the village as the woman, eyes glinting with insanity, slaughters the people like lambs. Their blood soaks the ground, staining it forever red in a wild and curving path. Homes burn and the woman continues on, cutting everything before her, walking deep into the forest.

_"…She was followed by a bloody red path."_

Suddenly, at the sound of a frightened whimper, she looks up. Eyes seek out the small, pink-haired boy ahead. He gives a squeak, then runs, her giving chase. Deep, deep, deep into the forest they go.

The trees grow darker, thicker, and it's almost like the boy stays in sight on purpose. She has no idea he could be acting as a lure, drawing her to her doom. She only giggles with glee at the idea of a toy to torture then kill.

_"This new Alice, deep in the wood/Was trapped as a wanted fugitive."_

Suddenly, the trees seem to shut around her. The boy wiggles just outside of them, just out of reach. The branches make bars, her sword unable to cut through them. Her eyes are wide in surprise now before confusion clouds her face.

She hacks away at the bars, sword chipping in multiple places, even though the material she's hacking at seems to be wood. Still, this is making her nervous, the blonde woman's heart beginning to pound in her ears from the growing fears.

Finally, the sword is dropped so she can grip the 'bars.' One hand reaches out toward the child, who stands there with a wicked grin painted on his pretty lips.

"P-Please, help me…!" she begs of him, but she only receives a laugh in return as he slowly, slowly, slowly steps back into shadow to vanish, all the while aging into a beautiful, pink-haired teenager.

_"If it weren't for the red path that she made/No one would think that she even existed."_

She lets out a startled sound, looking back with horror filled eyes. Branches like hands reach from the darkness behind her, and in that darkness exist numerous red lights like glowing eyes. As the gnarled twigs and sticks scrape and crawl and claw at the ground toward her, she stares at the glowing red dots. They're unnerving, to be sure, but just dots in the darkness, right?

...And then, she realizes, that some of them appear to be _blinking._

She immediately turns back in full-on panic, efforts to escape redoubled by the idea that there is something alive in here with her, something reaching for her. She's nearly rubbed her hands raw from her iron grip on the bars, and she finds herself screaming for help, pleads into the unforgiving forest where nothing but those creatures behind her can hear. Even the strange boy-turned-teen seems to be gone now, ignoring her pleas and panicked screams.

Those twisted 'branches' grip and claw at her, pulling her back into the blackness. At first, this is halted by her hands gripping the bars. But she's sweating, and her hands are slipping. The red woman whimpers, begging for forgiveness in an almost mad manner. Still more slither steadily closer and join those already tugging at her.

Her grip fails.

A piercing scream echoes through the dark forest as she's drawn back into the blackness, engulfed by it completely. Devoured by the forest, Axel can't help but feel, never to see the light of day again.

And then the red-head is falling into that blackness, then into the red, glowing eyes, and finally, into blue again. He finds himself looking once more at the decaying woman of red, a shudder running up his spine with the knowledge of her demise.

But she's fading back into a silhouette, the other figures fading in to stand next to her. The story has yet to be completed, and he's almost wary of the next 'Alice's' adventure.


	3. Act Three

Alice of Human Sacrifice, Act 3

Once more, there are the five figures. But most are quickly fading out, save for the one directly to the right of the red woman. This one is slowly illuminated, revealing, once more, a horrific figure—in worse condition than the former.

An empty socket stares out from a partially-covered skull. There's a brilliant, red rose blooming in the other socket, decaying skin hanging from the bone, enough to reveal the joint of the jaw. The hair is coarse, greasy, and grayed. What remains of clothing is nothing but scraps clinging to a thin form, just like what remains of skin. Muscle is visible in some places, stuck to the bone. Skeletal grin greets Axel, though, in reality, he can tell the mouth is simply shut.

Slender fingers gloved in white draw the crimson rose from the socket in the skull. Crushing it in his hand, the pretty man then allows the petals to dance in an invisible wind, before the hand moves up to cover the empty, black pits. Outward, from the hand, the muscle and skin begin to restore. As it spreads further, the hair is restored. Thickening into a dirty blonde, the top is short, spiked up gently, with the back brushing against his shoulder blades. The clothes follow, stitching back together and filling in where there is no cloth anymore.

The pretty man's hand falls from the eyes now, which slowly flutter open as the young man takes a deep breath. Axel is now staring into mismatched irises of green and blue, feeling as if he's falling into them.

A blue door opens. Two feet step gracefully out onto water, causing ripples to spread outward. From the ripples springs a town, and he stands on a fountain. The people look to him with curiosity as he gazes out to them.

"_The second Alice was a fragile blue one."_

Slowly, he steps down. A shy expression is on his face as he walks along, avoiding any actual contact with anyone. He's lost and alone, and Axel feels damn sorry for him. He's seen his fate, after all, and wants nothing more than to scream at him, to tell him to turn back.

Music suddenly catches the Alice's attention, him pausing to turn. A small band is there, playing a beautiful and wordless tune. Violin, accordion, flute… Small, but nice. And the music wells up inside the mysterious young man.

The words flow from his mouth in a beautiful melody, melding perfectly with the tune of the musicians. People begin to stop to listen as the man sings from his heart. More words flow into the open, the blondette losing all fear.

More and more people begin to watch, Axel quickly finding himself to be one of them. And there, within the crowd, not too far away, is a pink-haired boy in his early teens. Axel feels his stomach tighten, twisting into knots.

"_He sang to the world in the Wonderland..."_

The scene shifts, to a larger crowd in front of a small home—the singer's, obviously. There are whispers about him as he performs happily, the band from before playing for him. Everyone is happy that the young man—Demyx, Axel hears him called—has come through the mysterious, blue door that vanished.

They offer money and food for the performance. Some offer clothing and furniture, to go in his house. He only takes what he needs, though. Never more than that. Axel has to commend him for his kindness and humility.

But still, the pink-haired beauty watches.

"…_Filling regions with so many false-created notes…"_

A stage now, in front of a large audience. The joy in his mismatched eyes has faded, but his face fakes it. No longer is he enjoying his talent. Not with his large mansion, made by the people. Not with his fancy clothes. Not with the company he had come to keep.

The pink-haired boy still watches, his smirk having grown as time went on. Axel, once more, feels the need to scream for Demyx, as he's called, to run, to escape this world before it's too late. But his voice is caught in his throat.

"…_That were of a crazy blue world."_

The man is in his room now, scribbling on the walls. Musical notes, lyrics, anything to rekindle the spark he'd lost. He used to enjoy singing for others, now it's tedious and he can't seem to enjoy what used to make him so happy.

The entire room is blue, littered with blue roses. Even the furniture is blue. And there are various musical motifs scattered around, along with paintings of him. Axel wishes to comfort the young man, but once more finds himself without a body.

He can only watch as the pencil is flung across the room. Then, Demyx begins to pace. He's biting his nails, muttering wildly under his breath. His fingers are bleeding by now, he'd chewed so long and so much.

And then, he pauses and looks straight ahead as if in a daze.

"_This new Alice was that of a rose."_

A hand is held out, the mansion melting away to a beautiful field of flowers. The one holding it out is a golden-eyed young man, despite the white streaks through his black hair. There's kind smile on the lips.

Held gently between fingers is a white-petaled rose. The musician slowly takes it, smiling. The two talk, the world spinning around them. They grow closer and closer, the distance between them shrinking.

Demyx's madness is dissipating, lost to the worlds, and he once more has the inspiration needed to sing with passion. No more are his notes false.

But then, the distance suddenly grows. An affliction to the white-rose man. Madness setting in, consuming him, until an argument one night, in the study of the mansion they now share.

"_He was shot and killed by a madman."_

Golden eyes are wide. Shaky breaths are drawn. His arm is extended forward again, but not with a rose this time. No, this time, they hold a gun, and a hand rests on his shoulder. That of a boy with pink hair, now an older teen.

The blondette is on the floor, a puddle of blood pooling under his head. His blue eye is wide, a blood, gaping hole where his green eye used to be.

Axel feels his heart leap into his throat, stomach churning at the gruesome sight.

"_It left a flower blooming sadly red."_

The white rose man's eyes flicker up, to the beautiful blossom on the table just behind his lover's corpse. A white rose, the petals staining red as the blood clings to them, seeping into the white.

Tears stream down his face as he kneels down, trying to get the singer to stir. But to no avail, for he'd killed the man. So, after a few moments, he stands next to the corpse. Gun placed to his head.

The hand shakes as the tears fall, the pink-haired teen watching with amusement and fascination. Axel screaming for this scene to just end already. He can guess what's coming, and he doesn't want to see brains splattered everywhere.

A sudden bang from the gun, the golden-eyed man falling back onto the corpse of his lover so as to be found with him. Then, all goes black.

"_The one who was loved was now forgotten."_

Two graves, next to each other. Time goes rapidly by, and the flow of traffic to the graves changes drastically. At first, there are many who visit. Friends, family, fans. The graves are smothered with flowers in remembrance.

Then the fans stop coming, leaving only the aging friends and family. Blue and white roses are left, intertwined to represent the lovers. A tragedy, they all say, to lose such a beautiful couple like that.

Then the friends, too, stop coming and only younger family visits. Obligations set forth by ancestors. They leave simple flowers, nothing so intimate as a rose. They don't speak, just keep the weeds and such from the graves.

And even they stop visiting, leaving the graves to decay as a rosebush grows over the two lovers. Its vines consume their graves, hiding them from sight. The blossoms are blood red, a symbol of the dark deed.

The earth fades, then the trees, then the rosebush, and Axel finds himself, once more, standing before the decaying man with the rose for an eye. He, like the woman previously, is fading back into a simple silhouette as the other four fade back in.

The red-head wants to leave now, to escape this story, but by now, there is none. A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach tells him that. Which means there's naught left to do but wait.


	4. Act Four

Alice of Human Sacrifice, Act Four

The third Alice is up. Axel warily waits, only able to watch as the center silhouette becomes more visible, the others fading away. But there's a soft sigh of relief because at least this one doesn't appear to be dead and rotting.

She's beautiful, really, like a porcelain doll. Slate-colored hair falls over an eye, skin pale and delicate-looking. Gowns of green, fit for royalty, flow to the invisible floor. Fingers with nails painted black are stained with blood, lightly twitching at her sides as she stares ahead.

…Or, Axel's supposing she's staring ahead, because there _are no eyes_. They've been clawed out, likely by her own fingers. An inference, from the blood-stains on them, and the dried blood on her porcelain face.

The pretty man walks past, idly brushing the hair from the young woman's face as he does so. The touch is all it takes, and Axel watches time reverse itself, just like all the times before. The dried blood becoming fresh before flowing upward into the frightening black, where two eyes of pristine blue form, the black lipstick fading away to reveal flesh-colored lips, the pale, delicate skin regaining some of its color. Her gown changes, too, going through many of them as, rather quickly, she becomes a beautiful princess doll, standing there with a smile on her lips.

The kind face draws the red-head in, and he's only vaguely aware of his falling. Again. He's really getting used to this, isn't he? Either way, a green door decorated in clover opens, and he's standing behind the girl in a field, overlooking a small town.

"_The third Alice was a little green one…"_

She suddenly races down the hill with excitement, skirts held up so she doesn't trip and fall. She's laughing, the epitome of innocence, as she reaches the town. Curiosity fills her, and she wanders.

Bright blue eyes take in all the sights, many of the people taking in the appearance of the girl. She's an oddity in the gray town, clothed all in green with youthful innocence shining so brightly. There are whispers amongst the crowds as she twirls through the streets. Naught but a child, she is.

"…_Very cute and dear in the Wonderland."_

Soon, she notices the people watching her, and so she pauses, taking them in as well. Time seems to stand still for her, while everything else speeds up. Gray and black and white speed past the green girl, then flashes of color, and soon she's dancing once more.

But now, Axel can see, she's twirling across the dance floor of a grand ballroom. White flowers are laced through her slate hair, and her rich, kind laughter echoes. Many eyes watch her, sometimes the owner coming forward to momentarily dance with her.

"_She charmed people to her every beck and call."_

A change in scenery, a sudden shift, to her standing amongst a crowd. They are fawning over her and her innocence, telling her how cute she is. She revels in it, excited by the attention. A wide smile is painted upon her lips.

Trays of sweets and jewels are offered up, and she takes them, offering her thanks. She's slowly realizing her power over people, though, and the innocence behind her blue eyes is changing. She's becoming more calculating, manipulative. She's able to get what she wants.

"_She made a strange green country."_

Once more, a shifting of scenes, though as she's taking a seat. The gowns on her become darker, no longer the innocent white and green. Instead, they are accented with black, the greens darkening from pleasant pastels to forest tones.

The chair has changed from something simplistic to a throne, the ballroom having faded to a beautiful court. Steps lead up to her, and Axel finds himself standing on one, to the side, as crowds wait.

A blonde man calmly walks up, soft smile on his lips. A pillow rests in his hands as he climbs to the princess, bowing slightly. His own blue eyes never leave hers, the two locked in silent conversation, agreement.

"_This new Alice was the country's queen…"_

A golden crown with an emerald clover placed in it is set upon her head as she stands. She looks up to the man with a goatee, and he bends down, the two kissing lightly. After all, a queen needs a king.

The scene shifts as the two touch lips. A wedding, the young queen in pale, pale green with her new husband in black. As they draw back, they smile, then move to sit upon their thrones, hand in hand.

Another quick shift, the two enjoying tea time together at a table outside with a guest. The beautiful greens of nature surround them, a gentle breeze rustling through the branches as they laugh. The manipulative queen smiles coyly between her husband and their guest.

Soft, pink hair. A beautiful teen, almost the same age as the young queen. Quite the charming young man as he smiles back to her. He seems naively unaware of her nature, or perhaps she's too confident in her charms and doesn't realize his.

"…_Taken over by a distorted dream."_

Her smile is, very suddenly, beginning to fade as she stares at the teen. Then, the faded, confused smile slowly changes, morphing into a look of horror. For the guest no longer seems so kindly, nor does he seem human.

To the queen, named Zexion, as Axel has learned from conversation, the pretty man appears entirely black. His grin, entirely white, appears to almost be cut out from his face, pink hair falling softly to just past his shoulders in a slight mess.

Soft words from her husband, asking what is wrong. Her blue eyes shift over to him and she gives a startled cry. Standing abruptly, she stumbles back. The blonde man appears to be decaying, rotting, dead to her.

"_She was afraid of losing to death."_

Taunting words from the guest, words none but the queen can hear. Talk of a puppet ruler who had gone too far beyond her boundaries. Punishment is needed, and so, she is allowed to see this world—his world—for what it is, just to keep her in line.

Or else, he adds.

Fear comes into her eyes as she stumbles back further before taking off inside, running up to her chambers in a panic. She refuses to look to any of them, for all are distorted. All appear to be decaying, dying. The truth of this dream.

Zexion stares into her mirror, her own reflection showing the beginnings of decay. What must be happening to her body in the world beyond, in the world she had left to enter this dream that had previously been paradise.

"_She would forever rule her country."_

She must do something. She must, or else she'll be seeing the distorted forms of the dead, those who make up her people. She can live without seeing, but how?

An insane grin stretches across her face.

She doesn't notice the pink-haired silhouette as she stares into the mirror. A few hair clips secure the long bangs from her face as she reaches up, tracing the edges of her eyes. The humming from him, humming she pays no attention to, only seems to spur her on.

Axel lets out a strangled cry as he watches, the sound silent to the queen under her own pained noises. Her fingers are clawing at her own eyes, blood dribbling from the fresh wounds. And yet she continues, digging into the flesh and the sockets, into the skull, to finally pluck the offending features from their place.

She can live like this, with no way to see the truth of her world. She can resume her rule now, be the blind queen with her dear husband and those who are so easily manipulated.

Axel feels like vomiting, but finds he lacks the body to do so. Instead, he simply waits for the world around the fade, once more returning to the dark area where every little story begins. A turn of the page, he notes, and he's back to being flesh and blood.

Whatever he'd eaten before wandering here, it quickly finds its way to the floor. By now, he's absolutely dreading the next Alice's story. Each one is more horrific than the last, and, he notes as the figures return to their darkened states, there are still two left.

Dear gods, what has he gotten himself into?


	5. Act Five

Alice of Human Sacrifice, Act Five

"P-Please… No more…" Axel begs, resting on his hands and knees. The scent of fresh vomit greets him, his stomach still churning from the images of the Third Alice's story. A soft chuckle greets his ears, then the clicking of a tongue.

"_But we are so close to the end! There's one more story to tell!"_

Axel shakes his head, whimpering in fear and distaste. However, he doesn't fight the hand that pulls him to standing. His brilliant green eyes flicker to the far right duo, just now noticing that they're holding hands.

As the others fade out and the two fade in, Axel feels the bile rise once more. Sure enough, it's more horrific than before, but worse. He _knows_ one of them. The red head feels something in him beginning to break—whether it's his mind or heart, he can't tell.

Each is missing one eye. The boy, a blonde, is lacking his right, the girl her left. She, too, has blonde hair—greasy and long, slung over a shoulder. Their skin is grayed by age and decay, like the two dead ones before them. And there, across both necks, are stitches to hold the heads to the bodies. But this isn't what disgusts the onlooker.

Chunks of flesh are missing, but not as if they'd fallen away. There are tear and bite marks across the bodies, entire scraps of clothing torn away to make way for the predator that had done this. Their skeletal hands are clasped together, bone against bone, the flesh gnawed away.

Tears fall down Axel's cheeks. Roxas, the one he'd come to look for, is the boy. And the girl must be his sister, Namine.

He falls to his knees, breaking, watching as the world fades around him, leaving just him and the two.

"_During this, two children went into the woods."_

The voice isn't the pretty man this time, but the corpse of the girl before him. A scene flashes around them. Trees are around them, a red pathway leading into the forest. Soft footsteps and giggles carry down the path. Two sets—a boy and girl.

Axel doesn't look up, not really getting the connection. The world is fading back into the blackness, just him and the chewed-on corpses. A knot in his stomach twists uncomfortably.

"_They had a tea party under rose trees."_

Roxas this time, or rather, what's left of him. Axel looks up slightly, brow furrowing in confusion. For despite the fact that he never saw the pretty man touch either, they're slowly, slowly being restored to their former selves.

Crimson rose petals fall from trees around them. A small table to the side, tea cups and a porcelain pot with ghostly images of children sitting at the table. Children whose fate he doesn't know, for he can't make them out.

"_An invitation from the castle for them was…"_

Namine again, the two of them now almost fully human and alive, soft smiles on their faces. They seem so peaceful, despite their former states. Axel can only stare up at them, giving a slight shudder when the world around them lights up.

A clearing on a road to town, a grand palace in the distance on a hill. They stand, hand-in-hand, looking at and through him all at once. A familiar figure walks through him, bowing before the twins and offering up a sealed envelope, which they take.

A pretty teenaged boy watches with mild amusement and sinister intentions gleaming in his eyes. Roxas opens the envelope, slowly, looking to his sister in excitement, now fully back to their original states.

"…_The trump card of hearts."_

Twin voices intertwined, Roxas removes the small playing card. An ace of hearts, which they hold together and gaze at excitedly. And then, they're taking off down the path for the thick trees in the way.

Axel stands and quickly follows, wanting to catch up, to stop them, to find some way to change what he's being told. The pretty teen watches on, head tilted slightly to the side as his hands rest folded atop a cane.

"_The fourth Alice was two siblings…"_

Laughter as the twins run, hand-in hand down the path. The girl dressed in a simple, white dress, the boy in a black-and-white outfit. They race into the safety of the trees together, the ripple of a green door flickering into existence after them.

A lump forms in Axel's throat. They're going backwards, through other doors into other dreams. He's got to stop them before a certain one. After all, Green and Blue will be safe for them, as they couldn't possibly be targeted.

"…_Curious in the Wonderland."_

Twin sets of blue eyes gaze in awe at the emerald trees with crimson roses blooming amongst the branches. The petals fall gracefully, a gentle rain that lacks water. To the children, the red is warm, the color of happiness and hearts.

To the one chasing after them, the red is crimson blood (_blood of a musician)_. Blood he hopes to save. The blood of a friend he'd come here looking for. The color of armor and a trail left by a blonde woman with a sword that has a hilt of _red._

Another ripple. A blue door. Axel's heart jumps as he speeds up, yelling after them to stop, to not go any further.

"_Going through many different doors…"_

He passes through it now, entering into a darker part of the woods. The trail, he notes, has a noticeably pink tinge to it. Emerald eyes flicker up to the two far in front of him, always getting further despite his speed and their casual walk.

Their curiosity is growing, neither of the twins noticing the red trail below. But they are moving closer together, even if only to escape the clinging, clawing branches that seem to reach towards them as if to bar their path.

"…_Coming not too long ago in a yellow boat."_

The scene falters, Axel becoming bodiless for a few moments. He is over a strange sea, watching, watching, watching in urgency as a small, yellow boat with two sleeping children aboard drifts along.

As they bump against a small island with a single, golden door on it, the boy sits up, yawning as he stretches. He shakes his sister lightly, smiling softly as she, too, awakens. They stand, shakily, before they each jump out, one by one.

"_The stubborn big sister…"_

Namine straightens her legs, dusting herself off before stretching her arms over her head. She gives a yawn, beginning to walk toward the door with curiosity.

Roxas mimics her actions and begins to follow, the two pushing the door opens together before the scene begins to fade back into the black woods.

"…_And smart little brother."_

Axel can see and feel once more, and he pushes himself onward in desperation, screaming ahead to the distant twins. His legs have long since gone numb from pain, but finally, the two are coming closer.

There are bars before them, stopping them from going further, and they gaze at them curiously. Roxas reaches out, touching the red-stained bars, before drawing his hand back in fright.

Blood is on his hand, stretching across the palm. He looks to his sister, whispering that, perhaps, they should turn back.

Axel's heart skips a hopeful beat.

"_Though they were the closest to Alice's Wonderland…"_

A spray of crimson dashes all his hopes.

Just as Namine opens her mouth to agree with her brother, her head rolls to the ground. A clean cut, with a fountain of blood red to cover her own body and her brother's front.

His eyes are wide, frozen as he tries to comprehend what is going on. He's barely able to turn enough, to behold a sickly thin woman in red, ribs visible beneath her clothing. But there she is, with crimson-stained hair of gold and wild eyes of blue and a hungry, hungry look in the,.

"_They were never woken from their deep dreaming."_

Axel's reaching out for Roxas, the boy just beyond the touch of his fingers. He can feel the taunting gaze of the pretty man, the laughter in them—for there he is, sitting in the tree over there, watching the vents unfold—saying that, should Axel manage to touch the boy in time, this will all be just another bad dream, banished to the back of his mind forever.

The red-head holds his breath, fingers curving just slightly as his hand begins to descend on the shoulder. Just one more second, and he'll have the boy to drag to safety…

"_Forever they wandered in the Wonderland."_

The body falls away, crimson staining Axel's face as a head falls, eyes frozen in their fear to gaze into their mirror image.

The curved hand falls on empty space, the images disappearing in a heartbeat. He is once more standing with the figures, all of them now visible, all of them singing the words to their part of the song the pretty man had sung. It's a chorus of many voices, overlapping melodies from ghouls and ghosts.

Axel stumbles back, feeling sick and broken and just wanting to wake up. He doesn't even realize until it's too late that he's fallen back through a door—a large black one, with a joker symbol on it.

It shut immediately, slamming in his face.

He claws at the door, screaming for help, begging for the pretty man to release him from this horrible nightmare. But there's no answer aside from laughter.

In the dark room, where the puppets sit and wait to be used once more, the pretty man stands. A soft smirk upon his lips as one hand reaches up to tilt the top hat upward, just ever so slightly.

"_Well, then… …Who will be the next Alice human sacrifice…?"_


	6. Epilogue

Alice of Human Sacrifice Epilogue

His throat is raw, burning. His fingers bleed from the time spent clawing at the door, the hours upon hours as he begged for his life—for him and Roxas and Naminé to be released, even though he'd seen the red woman remove their heads. Even though Roxas' blood is across his face.

It's a dream, after all, right?

Even now, as he rests with his back to the black door, set in stone and partly covered in green, green vines, he tells himself repeatedly that it's only a dream. But he knows, as he takes in the vines of the Green Queen and the roses belonging to the Blue Musician in the distance, that it's not. This is real—very real—and he's not getting out of here.

"Can't stay in one place, it makes me easy prey…" he mutters to himself, pushing himself up—blood red stains on the stone step of the locked door. He's quiet, walking along the pathway before him, as he muses over how much time he has before this dream turns nightmare.

He wagers he has lots of time to go out with a bang—before that _thing_ comes for him. There has to be some way to get out of here… Somewhere he has time to do this without the pretty man getting to him too soon.

He looks up, and a grin crosses his lips. There, just off the path ahead of him, is an old cottage. The perfect place, not too far from his door, so he'll have probably days.

He takes off, feet pounding into the dirt and kicking it up. The cottage is closer, the front door almost in his reach. And then the door is opening, and he's falling inside and he's laughing. So far, so good. And everything's dry and he's safe. No pretty man to be seen. None of the zombies.

He sets to work instantly. Anything wooden and flammable is broken, stacked up in the rooms haphazardly. Anything that can burn is added—dried blankets, towels, old clothing. Everything is stacked up, and then he goes outside to fetch the good supply of firewood stocked up. He can't help but feel sorry for the family who lives here, whoever they may be, because they're going to lose their house.

All in all, it takes hours for him to become satisfied. He shifts some of it around, making sure that the doors and windows are blocked so that he can't get out even if he wants to. Then, he takes the oil from the lamps he'd collected from around the house and tosses it all over the room—the wood and the cloths and the floor and everything.

A hand slinks into a pocket, fishing out the matches he always has on him. What's a pyro without something to help him burn stuff? He rests with his back against the only clear wall, then. The match is lit, and he grins like a mad man at the dancing flame.

It's thrown, and immediately, flames leap up and surround him, trapping him in the small space. He gives a soft, slightly crazed chuckle as he slips down the wall to sit, running a hand back through his spiked hair.

Brilliant eyes shift across the flames, and he sees nothing to say that the pretty pink-haired man is here. So, even with his lungs already screaming from the lack of clean air in the room, he begins to laugh.

An arm rests across his forehead as the laughter grows, the look on his face telling just how much he's lost it from all he'd seen. He still hadn't washed Roxas' blood off his face, he realizes now, but he just laughs harder, the crazed edge growing and growing.

His leg stretched out in front of him is hurting him, but even as his lungs ache and his eyes sting and his skin begins to bubble and blister already from the intense heat, he can only laugh like a madman. He'd won, after all. The damn nightmare can't touch him if he kills himself.

Whistling suddenly rises above the roaring of the flames. A familiar tune, and even through his madness, he recognizes it as dread sinks through his bubbling skin and boiling blood. His laughter begins to die down as he stars in front of him.

Walking through the flames, not a single singed fiber or burnt scrap of skin on him, is a pretty man in nice clothes with a can. He pauses right inside the open space, grinning widely. The whistling ceases and he looks down his nose at the red-headed pyro.

"…_He sought to escapes and so burned himself."_

The implication is obvious: Axel had done the thing's job for him. The laughter has died into whimpers—ones that grow into frightened screams as he turns with what strength he has, clawing at the wooden wall to escape the sharp-toothed grin of the pretty man who had lured him to his death.

But there is no escape. He burns, feeling himself cook and burn and, eventually, life is merciful. His fingers, worn to the bone, fall to his side with his hands, and he rests with a blistered forehead to the wall. The lack of oxygen has caught up to him, and he's losing consciousness.

No more pain from his reddened, even blackened, skin. No more worries or cares as he slips off into unconsciousness, and another Alice is lost in the Wonderland…

~*~

In a white, white room, far away, there rests five beds. Each has an occupant that sleeps soundly, each one save for two different in their expressions.

In the first bed is a blonde woman whose expression shifts from one of sadistic glee to her own terror. Taped to the wall, by her bed, are drawings of bloody and broken towns and people—her own handiwork.

The second holds a young blondette man, tormented by his own feelings of loneliness and the loss of his own music. He twists lightly in his sleep, calloused fingers tracing phantom melodies across invisible piano keys and guitar strings that rest across his bed.

The third is a younger girl, blue hair resting across her face. She's curled up, a mad smile twisting her delicate features. A small, toy crown rests at the head of her bed, and clutched in her arms is a blond prince plush doll.

The fourth bed contains two individuals, twins with yellow hair that sleep turned toward each other. Their hands touch, forming a small heart on accident. Their faces are a mixture of confusion and fear.

The last is a red-haired man whose hand twitches as if it wants to reach out for something. He is, in his sleep, tossing and turning as if trying to escape a hidden fire that threatens to devour him alive.

And watching over them is a young man with pretty pink hair and a beautifully dangerous smile.

He hums a soft, seductive and frightening melody under his breath, gazing over the precious things under his care—a young woman with extreme psychopathy, a young man who is reclusive to the extreme, a girl who chronically manipulates those around her, fraternal twins who run away for no reason other than their own delusions, and a final young man who's been known to commit arson because of his pyromania.

"Doctor Marluxia?" comes a sudden, small voice. Shaken from his thoughts, the man turns around, offering a smile to the black-haired girl standing in the doorway. She's small and fragile, and she's a patient who's suffered severe memory loss.

"Well, well, Xion. Fancy seeing you here. You're dressed rather nicely. Where are your medical robes?" he asks of her, offering a kind and charitable smile. And sure enough, the girl is dressed in a little female sailor uniform—designed to be cute more than anything else.

"I came to say good-bye. Mama and Papa are on the way. I go home today!" little Xion says in an excited manner. The pink-haired doctor beams, walking over to ruffle the girl's hair in a proud way.

"That's good! And you even remember them! I'll have to tell the doctors Crescent that you've been such a good girl and you deserve ice cream." His voice is a pleased and gentle purr. She seems infinitely more excited by this, but then she looks past him and frowns.

"…It's sad. I wanted to say good-bye to Norty, but he fell asleep. And Axel, Roxas and Naminé are all still asleep, too…" the little girl laments, hands clasped behind her back as she scuffs her shoe across the tile.

The doctor offers a soft, sad smile before bending down to rest on a knee before her. There, he removes a card from his pocket, and hands it to her. A simple seven of hearts playing card with a phone number scribbled on it.

"Ask your mother and father if you can call me on my cell every now and then, so I can tell you when they all wake up. And then, I can have them all call from the clinic phone to give you a big good morning and congratulations on overcoming your memory loss." Marluxia tells the girl. She takes the card, beaming, then skips off down the hall at the call of her name.

The doctor stands and moves out enough to see her race into the arms of a brunette woman who's nearly crying from joy. Her husband, a blond man, stands slightly behind her with a look of relief written across his face.

As they turn to say good-byes to other staff members, Marluxia's smile darkens into a twisted smirk. Before speaking to the Crescents, he'll have to see to another patient here. A grief-stricken white Alice who had lost his wife in a car accident, and who needs a little wake-up call to fix him.

Just like the other little Alices.

Really, it's a win-win all around. They get their problems fixed, though not in the most ethical of ways, and he gets to continue living.

He can only chuckle to himself as he begins to hum once more, walking down the hall to see to Mister Xehanort Withers…

…Passing an old black-and-white photograph dated 1937 that contains his mirror image in the center of the staff pictured.


End file.
